


Flash of Blue

by twohearts



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: (incredibly vaguely set), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Future Fic, Gen, Hero Worship, Hiding, POV Outsider, Things have gone wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-14 00:06:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29784144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twohearts/pseuds/twohearts
Summary: In a village fenced off from the rest of the world, a little girl meets the most incredible woman in a blue coat.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett & Caleb Widogast, Beauregard Lionett & Original Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 43





	Flash of Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Full disclaimer: I'm pretty early into campaign 2 (around episode 30) and while I know vaguely some stuff that's going to happen, I have few real specifics. As such, this is incredibly vaguely set in a canon-divergent future. This is also my first Critical Role fic, so I'm getting used to the world, characters, etc. 
> 
> This kind of spiraled into a much longer fic than anticipated.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

It’s late when the soft jingling of the doorbell pulls Bree back from the edge of sleep. She sighs into her crossed arms as a waft of frigid air dances through the bakery. Still, it’s late, she’s tired, and her father is there, so she lets her eyes stay closed.

The door swings closed and the room is filled with silence. Sleep begins to overtake her again.

“What can I get for you?”

It’s a standard question, one that Bree pays little attention to. It’s late. She wants Mother and Father to close up the shop for the evening and put her to bed. Maybe they will, after this one last customer. 

She sighs, just a little too loudly, just to get her father’s attention.

A hand slips onto her head, runs its way gently over her scalp.

“Excuse my daughter. It’s almost her bed time.” He says fondly.

There’s an almost snort from the customer, and already Bree knows that this isn’t Mr. Page or Mrs. Vernon coming in for a last minute loaf of bread. It’s not anyone from town actually, otherwise they’d coo and squeal, even though Bree is almost eight years old and is not a baby anymore.

The customer confirms their strangeness when they speak, voice husky and smooth.

“It’s no problem. And just two cinnamon loaves, please.”

“Of course.” Her father replies and shuffles off into the kitchen to see if they’ve still got any.

It’s just Bree and the stranger then.

They don’t get a lot of strangers around here. Their town is out of the way, surrounded by overgrown forest. The townspeople have grown accustomed to this; it’s made them strong, self-sufficient, but people from away don’t like it much. Bree doesn’t see what’s so bad about a few extra vines, not that she ever goes into them.

She cracks an eye open.

The stranger’s looking around the shop, eyeing the door and windows with clear blue eyes. She’s older than Bree’s parents, bits of grey visible across her dark hair and a few marks against her brown skin.

“Mother and father said old people shouldn’t cross the forest alone.” Bree says before she can stop herself.

In an instant, the stranger is looking straight at Bree. Her eyes are even bluer now, focused as they are.

“Who’re you calling old?” She says, brow furrowing and arms crossing.

Her biceps bulge a bit as she does so, seemingly purposefully, not that Bree notices. She’s distracted by the woman’s long blue coat.

“You’re coat has no sleeves!” Bree exclaims, entirely awake now. She climbs up onto the counter, even though she knows she shouldn’t, and tries to get a closer look. “Won’t you get cold if you don’t have sleeves?”

The woman looks around, like she’s waiting for some non-existent person to answer for her, then finally she seems to realize that she’s the one who has to do the talking and says.

“Sleeves are bullshit.”

Bree isn’t sure what bullshit means, but she likes how the woman says it, all strong and tough and like it’s the truth no matter what anyone says.

“Sleeves are bullshit.” Bree repeats.

“Yeah, that’s right.” The woman smiles, unlike her statement it’s jagged and unsure.

“What’s bullshit mean?” Bree swings herself to the front of the counter and lets her legs hang down towards the ground.

The woman’s eyes go wide and her mouth flounders around for a bit until…

“Meow.”

Bree looks down and sees a little orange cat sneak its way out from behind the woman’s legs.

“Kitty!” Bree cries and jumps down from the counter. The woman takes a reflexive step back, arms tensing, but the cat comes right up to Bree and nuzzles a head against her cheek, purring already starting.

“Cay- Frumpkin, do you really think that’s such a good idea?” The woman says, voice tight.

Frumpkin responds with a loud meow and proceeds to lick Bree’s cheek for good measure.

“Fine. Whatever. Do what you want.” The woman mutters.

“Only got one cinnamon loaf left.” Bree’s father emerges from the kitchen. “Maybe I can interest you in a raisin loaf?”

“Daddy, she’s got a cat.” Bree sweeps Frumpkin up into her arms and holds him up for her father to see. Frumpkin doesn’t seem terribly happy about the move, but he allows it to happen.

“Handsome fellow.” Her father smiles before turning back to the woman.

“You got anything we- I could get a discount on? Like stuff that’s not so fresh or that you’ll have to throw away soon?”

Her father thinks for a moment and says. “Let me check.” Before rushing back into the kitchen.

“Why’d you come here?” Bree asks, once her father is out of sight. “We never get strangers visiting.”

Frumpkin has evidently had enough and lithely slips out of Bree’s grasp before returning to the woman’s side.

The woman shrugs. “Seemed like a nice place to visit.” Her eyes are looking towards the door, hand hovering over Frumpkin.

Okay.” Her father’s voice bellows as he steps back out from the kitchen. “I’ve got a loaf of pumpernickel that’s gonna go stale if it’s not eaten soon. How does that sound?”

“Great. Perfect.” The woman says a little too quickly and slams some money down on the table before grabbing the bread and rushing out, Frumpkin at her heels.

They close up for the night after that and as the evening’s activities take their toll on Bree, she falls asleep without another thought of the woman in the long blue coat.

Until three days later when the woman comes in again, just before closing time.

“Oh hello.” Bree’s mother says, manning the counter today.

Before the woman can even say anything, Frumpkin jumps up on the counter and rubs against Bree’s outstretched hand.

“Hello Frumpkin.” Bree smiles and runs a hand through his soft fur.

He purrs in response.

“And hello…” Her voice trails off when she realizes she doesn’t know the woman’s name.

“Beau.” The woman says plainly. She turns to Bree’s mother. “Two loaves. Whatever’s going to go to waste.”

Bree’s mother nods and hurries back into the kitchen.

It goes like that from then on. The woman in the blue coat, Beau, doesn’t come to the bakery every day, but when she does it’s always just before closing, always with her cat following along behind her. Always, she buys two loaves. Always, she wants whatever is cheapest.

Always. Always. Always.

She stops being a stranger, starts being a customer.

Mr. Marion, who owns the local tavern and underused inn, comes in to buy a special cake for his daughter’s birthday, and Bree’s father asks how he’s enjoying the extra business. Mr. Marion looks at him like he’s crazy.

“What extra business?” He huffs.

“I don’t know where else they’d be staying.” Bree’s father says in a hushed voice to her mother after Mr. Marion leaves. “There’s the old bramble house in the woods, but…”

“She’d be crazy to stay out there.” Her mother finishes.

Bree doesn’t understand, but she doesn’t ask her parents what they mean.

People just don’t live in the woods. Too dangerous, especially for someone… with a cat.

No one asks Beau where she lives, or where she came from, or really much of anything. She comes and goes as she needs, getting bread and vegetables and occasionally a book. She doesn’t talk to anyone longer than she needs to and everyone in town returns the gesture.

Everyone but Bree.

Bree likes Frumpkin. She likes Beau. Even though Beau barely talks more than to ask for a loaf bread and to tell Frumpkin to be careful.

Beau is tough. She’s strong in a way that Bree has never seen before. She’s seen butchers, people big and tough and strong with their hulking forms, but Beau is soft and quiet in her strength. She wears it less like armor, and more like it is a part of her.

Bree loves Beau.

She even loves Beau after she sees her darting into the woods like a thief on the run during a walk with her father.

That’s what Bree decides Beau must be then, a thief on the run.

Beau probably pulled off the biggest heist in what’s left of the Empire and is hiding out here in their fair little town. She bets Frumpkin was instrumental in pulling it all off.

It’s exciting living around a wanted criminal, especially one who lets her pet her cat.

Maybe that’s why one particularly boring day Bree decides to follow Beau into the woods.

She’s supposed to be playing with friends. Tara is just down the way and Bree knows that that is where her parents expect her to go. But just after exiting the bakery, out of the corner of her eye she sees something brown and fuzzy dart by. Suddenly, Bree forgets where she’s supposed to be, and her legs break out into a trot.

“Frumpkin?” She calls. She’s never seen him without Beau before, so she must be close by. Bree looks for that flash of blue and catches it against the dull brown bark of the forest.

Beau, like she so often does, has her fists clenched and shoulders tight. She’s prepared. For what exactly, Bree isn’t sure, but it doesn’t really matter. It just makes Beau that much more cool.

Frumpkin bounds over to her, coming to a perfectly timed stop by her feet.

Beau shakes her head, her shoulders relaxing somewhat. She bends down.

“Caleb, that was dumb.”

Bree presses herself against a nearby fence. Beau’s voice is soft; intimate in a way that Bree isn’t used to.

Frumpkin rubs up against Beau’s leg, but her frown doesn’t soften. The cat tries again, winding his way behind Beau’s coat and through her legs before hopping up onto her shoulder.

“Fine. Whatever.”

Beau makes to leave.

The woods don’t really start for another some 50 yards, but in the remaining space there are saplings, their stringy trunks already knotted up with vines. In a few years, they’ll be nigh unbreakable. For now, they stand like sentinels, a reminder of the ever-encroaching forest.

But Beau moves through them almost like they aren’t even there. Her nimble feet seem to know where the particularly nasty vines lay purely on instinct.

As Beau and Frumpkin move farther and farther out of view, Bree jumps out of her hiding spot. Her intended destination long forgotten, she shoots off after them.

The thing is Bree hasn’t really ever gone past the field of saplings. She’s not allowed. But if Beau can do it then so can she.

She steps over a particularly plump vine and looks ahead for the soft swishing blue of Beau’s coat. She can just make it out and keeps it in her sights as she climbs through some knee high weeds.

It’s a good thing she wore her long socks today.

The problem she’s having is that not only is the forest dense- she knew that- but Beau moves almost silently. No pitter-patter of footsteps or sloshing of boots. She’s like a ninja, Bree thinks.

The only sound she hears is the wind, howling as it races past the trees, and the squawk of birds over that.

She sees why people don’t come in here; it’s kind of scary. Still, Bree pushes forward. Beau keeps going and so will she.

Then, crack!

Bree looks down; there’s a broken twig beneath her boot.

Beau freezes, then she runs.

Fast, fast, fast she runs. Blue coat but a tiny square in the distance.

Bree picks up speed. One foot in front of the other.

She hops over a root. She ducks under a hanging vine.

But she’s just too slow and soon her breath catches up to her.

She pants, hard and loud, even as her legs keep pushing on.

“Come… on… Come… on.”

And then she hears it, a growl.

It’s followed by a squawk that cuts off mid-caw. And then there’s a crunch.

She keeps her eyes forward, still desperately trying to keep Beau in view.

The growl gets louder.

It seems to ricochet from tree to tree, making it impossible to tell which direction it’s coming from.

So she keeps running.

But her legs are heavy and her vision swims and there is just too big a root. She goes hurdling over it and crashes into the web of vines just in front. The moment she touches the vines, they begin to loop around her, moving with a dexterity that would impress any craftsman. Bree can feel the condensation dripping off of them and onto her skin. Suddenly, the air smells sweet.

She looks around. Left. Right. Up. But no, the growling continues invisibly. And her head feels impossibly heavy.

Then, she sees it.

It’s big and burly with teeth sharper than the knives Father uses in the kitchen. It is right in front of her. It steps forward, one clawed paw after another.

The air is impossibly sweet. It’s getting hard to breath.

Still, the beasts persists.

In the corner of her eye, Bree sees a flash of movement. Her head is swimming, opaque shapes dancing across her vision, but she’s sure of what she saw. A flash of blue.

And then it all goes dark.

She wakes up to a man’s voice.

“You should not have brought her here, Beauregard.”

Bree cracks an eye open. She’s on a bed. It’s old and there is only hay in place of a mattress. She imagines it is better than the floor, though, where Beau sits. It is wooden and only just so, because it is clear that most of it is in some state of decay.

A thought clicks into place. This is the old bramble house. The one Bree was taught to never look for.

Of course Beau is living in it. Beau is the only one tough enough to live here.

This man though- Bree cracks another eye open- he does not look tough at all. He lays on the other end of the makeshift bed, back against the wall as though it is the only thing keeping him upright. His arms lay limply at his sides, palms up.

“What was I supposed to do? Leave her in this fucking forest?” Beau dances a string in the air and Frumpkin makes a swipe at it. Bree does not miss the way the man’s face twitches as Frumpkin does so.

That is all she can make out of his face though. Most of it is covered in scraggly red hair that has long since lost its sheen. Its overgrown, Bree thinks, almost as much as the forest.

“No, you were supposed to take her back to her parents and say you found her on the ground. She must have fallen and hit her head.”

“Oh yeah. They sure would’ve bought that.”

“Why not? Her parents like you.”

“They like that I’m a regular customer.”

The two seem like they could go on like this forever, so Bree takes the opportunity to let out a small cough.

Beau and Frumpkin are on her in an instant. The man doesn’t move.

“Hey. Hey, kid.” Beau’s voice is easy. “How’re you feeling?”

“Beau?” Bree rasps. “Where am I?” She asks, even though she knows the answer.

Beau looks sheepish for a moment and in that time the man answers for her.

“You are in our home. My friend here rescued you. You were very silly to follow us into the woods.”

Us? Had the man been there too? Bree just remembers Beau and Frumpkin flitting into the trees.

“I’m sorry.” She says, pouting a bit. It always works on Mother and Father.

Beau’s face softens, even if the man’s doesn’t.

“It’s okay.” She says. “It’s just; you’ve got to be careful. Someone’s not always going to be there to save you.”

“I’m sorry.” Bree says again, not really sure what else there is to say.

Frumpkin gives her a look, tilting his head and furrowing his brow. His expression is almost more person than cat.

“Now that you are awake, Beauregard can take you home.”

“Give her a minute to catch her breath, Caleb.”

Caleb pouts, but doesn’t move.

“Is this your hideout? Is this where you stashed all of the gold?” The words pour from Bree’s mouth as she searches the room for some indication of treasure. If there is any, it is hidden expertly well. Exactly what Bree would expect from such incredible criminals.

“Gold?”

“Yeah, gold. You’re thieves right? Wanted and on the run?” As she says it, Bree feels the magic of the idea evaporate. She looks at Caleb, all thin limbs in an oversized coat, dirty and- now she realizes- the source of some of the house’s smell. Even Beau, still as tough as ever, looks a little wearier under her gaze. Her hair just a touch out of place, wrinkles a little more pronounced.

Still, she waits for them to contradict her.

“We are…” Beau starts but trails off.

“We are not thieves.” Caleb picks up.

Bree’s shoulders deflate.

“Then what are you guys? Why won’t you stay in town? Mr. Marion has a few rooms in his inn.”

“Bree, right?” Beau asks.

Bree nods.

“We’re not thieves, but we don’t exactly want to make a scene. We’re just around for a bit until our friend contacts us and says it’s safe to go home, okay?”

“Oh.”

It is with that that Frumpkin rubs against her side, rough tongue wiping a layer of dirt from her shoulder.

“Why would you come here?” Bree likes her town just fine, but other people don’t. And even if Beau liked small towns that were more wood than people, she’s not like the people here. She’s too… she’s too something. Bree can’t put her finger on what, but Beau is different.

She eyes the man, Caleb; he is someone she thinks she might know. His face is rough and ragged like some of the farmers and, sure, he is less well kept than them, but there is something of the small town in him, even if it is buried under layers and layers of dirt and hair.

Frumpkin purrs under her hand.

“It was,” Caleb’s voice is slow, purposeful. “It was recommended to us by a friend.”

“Is your friend from here?”

Bree looks at Beau as she speaks, but Beau just looks sad.

“No. She’s from far away.”

“Where?”

Beau shares a look with Frumpkin and the cat tilts his head without missing a beat.

“Have you heard of the Menagerie Coast?”

Bree’s eyes grow wide.

“That is _so_ far away.” She gasps. “How did she even know about our little town?”

“Her mother once met a man from here.” Caleb says quickly. Too quickly. “Beauregard, I believe she has caught her breath.”

“Gods, Caleb, it’s fine. She’s just a kid.”

“Beauregard.”

Frumpkin slips away from Bree, purring coming to an abrupt stop, and sprawls out onto Caleb’s outstretched legs. The man’s hand fumbles for a moment before finding Frumpkin. It is the most movement she has seen Caleb make and his throat noticeably tightens- veins bulging- as he does so.

Despite all this, his pets are gentle and Frumpkin leans into them without taking his eyes off of Bree.

“The more time she spends with us, the more likely trouble will find her.”

How can he be so gentle with the cat when his voice is just so harsh? She wonders.

“I know. I know.” Beau stands up, dusts herself off. “C’mon kid. Time to get you home.”

Bree stands and feels the boards of the old bramble house creak under her. Maybe it is best that she not stay here too long. This place could come apart any minute.

“You coming?” Beau asks and at first Bree thinks she’s talking to her. But, no, her eyes are on Caleb, who still pets Frumpkin with hands too gentle for such a ragged looking man.

“No.” And Frumpkin shakes his head along with Caleb. “I am tired and so is Frumpkin.”

Beau seems to consider this for a minute and Bree thinks she has never looked more tired.

“Fine.” She eventually says, her voice resigned. “Be careful.”

“Always.”

Bree thinks they share a look, but it’s hard to tell because Caleb doesn’t seem to be looking at much of anything.

They leave the house and Bree can see that it can barely be considered a house at all. A tree is growing into it, seemingly uncaring that there is already a structure there, and as such the roof has grown lopsided along with the rest of the foundation. There is no clearing around the house, nothing that differentiates it from the rest of the forest. That is abundantly clear as Beau and Bree step over roots just to get off of the porch.

Beau reaches an arm out.

“Okay, kid. Hop up.”

“I’m not a baby.” Bree crosses her arms.

Beau seems to fight back a laugh before saying.

“I know, but it’ll be easier for both of us if you let me carry you. It can be a piggy back ride, if you want.”

Bree considers this.

“Okay!”

And they’re off.

Beau is exactly as fast as she looked from afar. What is still surprising though is how even with Bree on her back, she still manages to move in almost complete silence. Bree wishes she could be this quiet, then Mother and Father would never catch her sneaking down in the middle of the night for a bite of cake.

“How’d you get so good at this?” Bree asks, breaking the silence.

Beau doesn’t slow.

“Lots of practice.”

Bree groans. “That’s what adults always say.”

At that, Beau snorts.

“I guess that is true.”

A beat.

“Okay fine. I was trained by a group of monks. Taught me how to be quiet so no one could ever catch me.”

“Have you ever been caught?”

“Well…”

Bree nods wisely. “That’s why you’re here.”

“Hey! I mean… okay kinda.”

Beau keeps moving and Bree wraps her arms just a little tighter around Beau’s shoulders. She knows that Beau would never drop her, but she can’t help herself.

“Is Caleb why you got caught?” Bree asks after Beau swiftly dodges a low hanging vine.

After a minute, when Beau doesn’t answer, Bree says.

“He doesn’t seem very stealthy.”

Beau sighs, not dropping speed at all.

“He tries. It’s hard for him now.”

“Why’s it so hard for him?”

Beau doesn’t answer, just keeps running.

Bree decides she better keep watch. She doesn’t know what that beast was from earlier, but she doesn’t want it to come back. Beau’s a lot stronger than she is but she’s going to do what she can to protect them too.

Finally, the trees grow smaller, the roots less thick, and they find themselves in view of the collection of buildings that form the village. Beau sets Bree down on the soft grass.

“Okay. Good. Um, you know the way home now, I guess?” Beau’s eyes are on the ground.

“Yep.” Bree pipes up. “It’s just past Mr. Rashon’s house.”

“Good. Good.”

“Thank you for taking me home.”

“Course.” Beau’s eyes are still stuck on the ground.

Bree shakes her head. Adults are so silly sometimes.

She reaches her small arms as far as she can and puts them around Beau, pulling her into a hug.

Bree looks up to see that Beau has actually cracked a smile. It’s lopsided and unsure, but it’s there.

“You’re welcome, kid. Just, don’t follow Frumpkin or me again okay? It’s not safe. For a lot of reasons.”

“Promise.”

Bree lets go and starts walking off. It’s getting late and Mother and Father must be wondering where she is.

She turns back one last time and says, summoning up all of her strength. “Come into the bakery tomorrow. I want to pet Frumpkin.”

“Alright, kid.”

“Good.”

Bree turns away once again and knows from the silence that trails behind her that Beau has disappeared back into the forest, back to Caleb and Frumpkin, and whatever secrets they are keeping.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! 
> 
> I really wanted to write some outsider POV and thought "Beau is exactly the kind of person I would've thought was the coolest person ever as a kid [and maybe now too...]"
> 
> Kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!


End file.
